Fallout: The Price We Pay
by Inquisitor Herron
Summary: This is the story of four men journeying across the Wastelands. How far will any man go for the one he loves, and at what price?
1. Chapter 1

Fallout Chronicles: The Price We Pay

Inquisitor Herron here, thanks for reading my first attempt at a Fallout Fanfic. I just wanted to clear up a few things ahead of time (aside from the fact that I do not own Fallout or any of its creations or locations) The first being the time set and plot details. The story takes place around two years after the events of the Broken Steel DLC, with the Lone Wanderer being a Male Good Guy who accomplished both the story line and most of the side quests. I only felt it necessary to let you know in order to give you an idea of the state of affairs in the Capital Wasteland by the time my story starts. The story follows three men, Christopher Carrington (original character), Billy Creel and Lucas Simms as they journey across the Wastes. Anyway that's enough from me, enjoy the tale and please let me know what you think!

Ch.1 Just another face in the crowd

Christopher Carrington leaned as far under the shade of the fully taken up rusty metal porch of the Brass Lantern as he could, scowling up at the blazing sun from beneath the brim of his time worn hat. The town was one big crater lined with rusty metal walk ways and scrap buildings. The Brass Lantern was just to the side of the town center, which the whole population of the town was trying to get closer to.

All around him the citizens of Megaton were gathered around the center of town, clamoring to each other in an indistinguishable swell of noise. At the center of the crowd stood the man they all knew and loved, the Lone Wanderer. Chris listened closely to the words of the hero, more out of boredom than curiosity. Unlike all of the foolish folks and Wasters that populated Megaton, Chris wasn't in the habit of believing everything he was told.

His face was creased in the same scowl he wore almost every waking moment, not from any sense of unhappiness but from the hard learned lesson of the importance of looking dangerous. Chris's simple getup of a pre war shirt and pants was covered almost entirely by the leather duster he had found on a corpse a few years ago. He liked the coat, which kept him warm at night and was long enough to make a decent blanket when he slept. His raven black hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and shot through with a few white hairs he'd more than earned.

From what he had heard on his travels, Chris would have thought the Lone Wanderer would be taller, and a hell of a lot meaner. But in the three days he had been bumming around the town all the Lone Wanderer had done was stay in his house and trade a few pleasantries with Simms or the rather odd owner of the local supply shop. He even looked kind, at least as far as Chris could tell from the few times he had seen him.

"I plan on being back in a few months." Chris hadn't caught much of what the Lone Wanderer had said before, too many voices packed too close together. The people crowded close but an invisible circle had formed around the two men as they spoke. Standing with the Lone Wanderer was the grizzled hard ass of a sheriff, Lucas Simms. One of the only other ones among the hundreds that looked up to a serious fight. They were facing each other Casually and with friendship Chris's keen eyes could tell, but both carried themselves with the grace of beings as deadly as anything he had ever found in the Wastes.

"Well there'll always be a place for you here kid," Simms returned, offering a hand to the Lone wanderer. The crowd put on an impromptu cheer as the hero and the sheriff shook hands. It was strange to see so many people genuinely caring about one man in such a hell hole of a world. But if even half of the stories about the Lone Wanderer were true they owed him a hell of a lot more than a cheer and a crappy gift every once in a while. Chris smirked at the thought, grimacing as he took another swallow of the putrid stuff that passed for beer there.

The crowd followed the Lone Wanderer all the way to the gates, thankfully clearing out the seats of the Brass Lantern enough for Chris to remove his hat and claim a spot. They'd watch him go and cheer for him, then he'd be gone and they would remain stuck in the awful things they called lives. He gulped down the rest of his beer and thumped the bottle down onto the bar. His work there was done and soon enough he'd leave that piece of shit town for good, maybe get down to the important business if the job paid off and he got what he needed. It would be nice for something to happen like it was supposed to for once.

Chris was startled out of his thoughts by the sudden appearance of a man in the chair next to him, signaling for a drink with a wide grin. His eye patch was the first thing Chris noticed, the next was his attitude. He glanced at Chris with a lop sided grin and offered a dust covered hand, which Chris stared at for a moment before he got the hint and returned it unshaken. The man's drink was delivered after a moment, which he popped the cap off of and downed with a lighthearted chuckled.

"He's a good guy huh?" Chris turned back to the man after realizing the question was aimed at him. "The Vault kid," He finished with a gesture back at the entrance of the town. Chris shrugged and tried to project an aura of apathy. "Met him just after he left the Vault, gave Maggie an old Teddy Bear too." He scratched absent minded at his beard as he spoke.

"Hmm," was all Chris replied with, something anyone who had spent time with him would recognize as his way of letting someone know a conversation had ended. No such luck with this particularly annoying waster.

"Names Billy by the way, Billy Creel." The hand came back out for another go. Chris shook his hand silently and without meeting his eyes, maybe it would help get the point across. After a moment he met Billy's questioning look and sighed with the realization that he wouldn't be ending this conversation through ill manners.

"Christopher," He replied simply, drawing another smile from the waster.

"Not much on the old chit chat huh?" He asked sympathetically. The term "understatement" came to mind. But as annoyed as he was at being bothered, Chris found the man amusing if not likable. It was surely a rare thing to find a friendly wastelander so close to D.C. Amusing or not though, he had things to do before he left the town. Chris stood from the rusty chair suddenly, stretching out his back and replacing his hat in one move.

"One more for him.", he called to the woman behind the bar, dropping a few caps next to the man named billy Creel. Chris walked away with the sound of more good natured chuckling coming back from the bar. What a strange man...

-()-

Lucas Simms watched the doors to his town grind close with an impassive stare, holding his hat in place until the fierce wind of the dust storm was cut off by the metal plates. The Lone Wanderer was gone again, off to do whatever good he could manage in that hellhole of a world. Simms stood at the door for a while longer, reflecting on that strange kid as the crowd went back to the days workload. He'd had a good feeling when first he'd laid eyes on the kid from Vault 101, and more times than he could count that feeling had proven right.

For as long as he could remember Megaton had been something of a haven for the less violent of the Capital Wasteland's residents, a place people could be safe if not comfortable. And he had dedicated his time and his life to making sure it stayed safe, both for the people and his son. And in the end it was his son he cared more about than anything in the world.

Simms made his way back down to the town square slowly, watching each and every person as they made their ways across the dirty ground and the rusty walkways that spidered across the perimeter of Megaton. They were his flock, but damned if they weren't prone to falling off those old walkways. He grinned at the memory of fishing old Nathan off the roof of Moira's shop after he had fallen through a piece of rust eaten metal. Things like that had been the worst of Megaton's problems since the arrival of the Lone Wanderer. That kid was doing a better job of keeping the bad ones out than Simms could simply through the knowledge that he lived there.

As was part of his daily routine Simms stopped by Moriarty's to make sure none of the drunks had pulled a gun or got into to big a fight. More often than one of them pulling a gun was the problem of Moriarty pulling a gun on someone who had "cheated" him. Simms didn't approve of what went on in the bar, but it wasn't his job to tell the people what was moral, just to make sure they let others live their lives. But once again he thought of how rarely he had been forced to draw his gun since the Vault Dweller had gotten there, he liked it better this way he decided.

The bar was dank and dusty, like all buildings in Megaton and indeed in all the Capital Wastes. Simms removed his hat and nodded a greeting to Gob, who was behind the bar polishing a glass with an equally dirty rag. The ghoul nodded back and went back to work. Moriarty wasn't out front that day, as he often wasn't. Too many caps to count in the back Simms thought with a grumble All of the seats were taken today, each occupied by a sad looking drunk who had nothing better to do than die slowly in a bar while Moriarty made more caps. With a grimace Simms looked to the empty chair in the far corner of the place. The seat in which a man who had tried and almost succeeded in killing him had sat.

He still hated thinking back to that day. He had just been told that the man known as Burk was planning to detonate the town's namesake nuke, killing everyone including his son. Simms had brought the Vault Dweller to show him exactly how he dealt with people who tried to kill everything he held dear. And within a few seconds he had heard the click of a gun as he turned around, and knew that his life would end, his son would grow up alone if he even managed to grow up with a mad man trying to blow him up. the gunshot had almost deafened him, but it hadn't killed him, for the shot had come from the Lone Wanderer, silencing the evil bastard forever and saving Simms life.

The Sheriff had just decided the place looked fine when the door burst open behind him. Simms whirled around just in time to step out of the way as a man ran frantically into the bar. Almost plowing into the counter Billy Creel cried out in anguish, turning rapidly around the bar until his remaining eye found Simms. Simms frowned deeply, Billy was by far one of the most level headed men he had ever known. When Raiders attacked Megaton it was always Billy who rallied the citizens against them, usually laughing all the way. Something big must have gone down to put such a look of pain and terror in his face.

"Maggie!" He gasped, his sweat covered face beat red and contorted. Simms shook him roughly, thinking about slapping him to get him to calm down.

"What is it Billy, has something happened to Maggie?" Maggie was a sweet kid, something of a flower in the unkind wastes. His stomach sank, Maggie was Holden's best friend. If something had happened to her he wasn't sure how his son would take it. Billy's eye cleared out a bit as he took a deep breath. Finally he spoke, though his voice remained strained.

"I came home and, and, and the place was a wreck!" He cried, his hand falling to Simms shoulders to stay up. The other patrons of the bar had gone silent by now, all listening in on what could pass for entertainment in such a dull place. Simms sent them back to their drinks with a warning scowl. "M-Maggie's gone..." Billy finished in a pant. Simms was silent for a moment, his hazel eyes staying at the floor, brow furrowed as he thought. He had a strange feeling, like something didn't add up. Billy waited twitchingly, his eye darting around the bar like he could find Maggie just by glancing around. He kept his silence a moment longer, thinking deeply. Why would someone take a kid?

"Oh shit," Simms gasped, drawing Billy's eye back to him. "Follow me!" He shouted, already bolting out the door of the bar. He just hoped his guess was wrong.

-()-

Chevron was one of the least pleasant men it had been Chris's pleasure to meet in his travels, but he had too many uses to be discounted out of hand. The sickly fat man stood across the dusty broken road from Chris, his double chin dripping greasy drops from the heat. Between them sat a bag that Chris had been working to get for months, plopped on the ground by Chev as though it were nothing more than dirty laundry. The streets of Springvale were silent as always, setting the mood for what Chris was sure wouldn't be an easy palaver.

Chevron wore a black prewar suit, complete with red tie and hat, probably chosen for the color's ability to hide sweat stains. His bald head was covered only sparingly by the little hat, showing off the jagged tattoos that decorated his scalp. Chevron frequently bragged that the tattoos covered every part of his body with the exception of his "pretty" face.

"The other androids are dead?" Chevron slurred in his heavily accented drawl. Chris nodded curtly and took a step toward the leather bag. "Ah ah," Chevron clucked at him, his chubby hand rising in a gesture of "stop right fucking there". He could take a chance and grab the bag then and there, Chris knew. But Chevron never traveled without protection, usually in the form of several hired snipers. "I ask only because there's a rumor been spreading of late," He let the unspoken accusation hang in the air. The hairs on the back of Chris's neck stood up, his reliable warning of trouble on the horizon.

"They're dead, dead and gone.", Chris summoned his grim tone and waited nervously, watching for any sign in the overly dressed man of communicating to anyone other than him. Snipers would need a signal of some kind, otherwise they wouldn't take the chance. The chances of him managing to get into cover were slim, but standing to fight was suicide. He needn't have worried though, after a moment Chevron smiled broadly and lowered his hand with a welcoming nod. Not wanting to look too desperate, Chris took a moment to pull out and light a cigarette before marching over to the side of the bag.

"Perfect service.", Chevron chuckled as the bag emitted a high pitched howl. He realized his error in judgment just as his hand made contact with the strap of the bag. Chris only had enough time to pull his hands up to cover his face before the bag detonated in a blinding flash of white light. A wave of searing heat and piercing shards of metal erupted in all directions from the bag. The blast threw Chris like a rag doll, tossing him through the brittle remains of a door across the street with a secondary rumble. "As always.", Chevron finished as he made his way to the dark doorway of the sadly rotting house.

Chris had come to rest inside the hall of the house, laying on a bed of the fragmented remains of the door he had taken with him. Chevron stepped through the doorway carefully to avoid splinters. Chris was gurgling something weakly, a thick trail of blood leaking from his mouth. The mercenary was surely on the verge of death, Chevron knew, his shirt torn in a dozen places, all of which were steadily spilling blood onto the ancient wooden floor. He stood over Chris silently for a while, just watching him struggle for the fun of it.

"You never could save it you know?" The fat man informed him, bending down with a grunt to they were face to face. Chris didn't respond, his eyes had rolled to the back of his head and all that came from his twitching mouth was more dark blood. "Or I suppose you'd prefer I called it her." He added, disappointed at the lack of a reaction.

Chris could still hear him, even through the murky haze of agony that swirled around his mind. The sick bastard was toying with him now, just dragging it on for the hell of it. Chris had killed many men in his life, but he would never prolong their suffering if he could help it. He could tell that several of his ribs were broken, but the real problem was that he seemed to have a punctured lung.

"I really must be departing now my old chum," He heard Chevron chuckle as his voice became more distant. "Business to attend to in Paradise Falls with two brats I borrowed from the town!" He could only barely make the words out as his mind slipped away into oblivion. "Then I'll see to the matter of our little old broken Abigail!"

"Nrrg," Was all Chris could muster from his treacherous lips before his world was no more. I'm sorry Abby...

The door was shattered, broken fragments scattered across the entrance of Lucas Simms's house. The darkness beyond the doorway was almost physical in the glaring sun outside. They stood at the doorway, neither wanting to be the first to say anything. Billy Creel finally took a step forward, stopped almost instantly by Simms's upraised hand.

"I'll go first, but I know they aren't here..." Simms spoke gruffly. Billy followed the old sheriff into the darkness of his house. They drew their weapons silently, Simms his Chinese assault rifle and Billy his pistol, both men alert for any danger. But the gesture was wasted, both of them could tell no one was in the house simply by the feel of the place. Billy watched Simms's grim face as he went from room to room, searching for any trace of his missing boy. But as sad as the man's situation was Billy couldn't spare much of a thought to the man's son, not while his little girl was missing.

"Nothing,.", Simms barked from some other part of the house. Billy just nodded his head and sat down heavily on one of the sofas. If someone took them there was no way in hell they could track them in the wastes, and whatever had happened had to have happened at least a few hours ago. His mind seamed stuck between shutting down and racing off, leaving him with nothing to process with. After a few minutes Simms returned, brow set in concentration.

"Who would do this?" Billy asked, getting a grumble in answer as they left the building. Simms led him to the center of the town, both racking their minds for anything that might help. The people of Megaton milled about around them, each on the way to some unknown task or location.

"Anyone new in town recently?" Billy asked, grabbing blindly for a clue. The answer came to him before the Sheriff had a chance to answer. "Carrington!" He shouted in a panic induced mix of fear and anger. The man had looked about as friendly as a Death Claw, but Billy made an effort to make anyone he met feel welcome in town.

"Yeah, I met him, didn't look right to me..." Simms agreed, following Billy's line of reasoning. "Far as I know he's leaving today though, Moira said he mentioned he was heading for Springvale before he went." They were off before the dust could settle from their foot steps.

More on the way! Inquisitor Herron


	2. Chapter 2

Ch.2 The Wasteland shuffle

Killing was just part of the job, the fun part. Mike came out of cover with a wolfish grin after the all clear had been called by Chevron. He was joined in the road quickly as three others moved out of hiding, all of them hefting wicked looking weapons. The boss wiped his chubby face with a handkerchief and turned to look back at the smoking ruin of the explosive trap Mike himself had built for him. Mike loved explosion... a lot.

The contract was so easy Mike had been suspicious of the weirdly high payoff listed. All it stated was "Guns wanted. battle ready for protection of contractor and elimination of target. Payment in full after contract completion." After a few moments of mulling it over they had accepted and were off. It really had turned out to be easy. Mike never expected his target to be dumb enough to get himself killed by the damn bomb before he could even get a chance to shoot at him. It disappointed him a little when he thought about it. But caps were caps, and he loved caps... a lot.

"Gentlemen," Chevron slurred at his hired guns in that strange accent of Mike had never been able to place. "As much fun as it is to be sweating myself to death out in this hell hole, I'm afraid I have business elsewhere." The way he said my annoyed Mike to no end, may'self? "Make sure our friend is well and truly bereft of life," Chevron continued with a lazy wave back at the broken doorway they stood across the street from. "Then you will find your pay at the agreed location, with a nice bonus for your explosive expertise." He added. The mercs grinned stupidly at the compliment and the promise of more caps, Mike included.

Not wasting any time Chevron departed with a tired looking brahmin carrying two wriggling burlap bags. Mike frowned at the two moving shapes, sounding like something was struggling inside them.

"Aint my problem," He muttered after a moment. His fellow mercs waited for his sign to move on, having informally made him the leader of their small band a few years ago, after he had killed the original boss of course. Instead of an order Mike simply nodded his head toward the building their target had landed in. They all put on blood thirsty smiles and marched off to the building. They got about five steps before the merc he called called Boomboom fell to the ground, the top half of her head removed in a shower of red mist and bone fragments.

"Holy shit!" Mike gasped, diving back into the cover of an over turned car on the side of the road. Another merc fell dead with a thunderous bang before Mike could even trace where the first shot had come from. In the distance a head poked out over a high cliff ledge, the tell tale shine of a gun barrel helping Mike mark his position from behind the car. Even from as far away as he was Mike could tell it was a pistol the attacker was using, which made him on hell of a shot.

"Boss?" Cal shouted uncertainly from one of the houses ahead of Mike.

"The cliff!" He shouted, sticking his rifle over the lip of the car and spraying fire at the distant cliff. Suddenly a chunk of the rusted metal beside Mike's head exploded deafeningly. What the hell? Pure instinct taking over now Mike rolled out into the road, pulling his rifle forward to face the enemy that had gotten behind him somehow.

"You we'll need later," The scruffy looking made informed him, the barrel of a nice looking assault rifle now resting firmly against Mike's sweating forehead. How had he gotten so close? The man was dressed like an old style cowboy, hat included. "You get to live," The bearded cowboy growled.

"Gee thanks," Mike stuttered dumbly. The man answered with a blow to the head from the assault rifle's stock. Mike was out before he hit the ground.

-()-

Billy and Simms watched the meeting from the safety of the cliff. They lay prone on the sun baked rocks and watched Chris speaking with the fat man. Though neither of them could even guess what they were talking about Billy could at least get a better view of the scene through the scope of his magnum. They had been talking for a while before the fat one brought a large bag out from one of the skeletal houses and set it down in the road.

"Any sign of the kids?" Simms asked in a whisper. That had been the first thing he had searched for when they had chosen that spot, but Springvale held far too many nooks and crannies for it to be that easy.

"Nah, but I think Carrington's in for some trouble," Billy pointed a finger tentatively toward a small pile of scrap metal further down the road from where Carrington and the other one stood. Simms nodded grimly, a gun barrel was poking out of the pile and both could see the very top of the sniper's head from behind his hiding spot. He probably wasn't the only sniper, knowing the way ambushes usually worked. "Should we help him out?" Billy asked, looking from his gun for the first time sense they had gotten there.

"Might not need any," Simms responded coolly. "Never know, might just be for security." It was true, during his time in the wastes Billy had served as a body guard numerous times without having to fire a shot. And if they could find the kids without having to go through a gun fight it suited Billy just fine. He had lost his taste for killing after so many years of it out there. Billy looked back to his scope in time to see Carrington walking over to the bag.

"A trade?" Billy asked himself with a frown. Before an answer could be found the bag exploded into a fire ball, blasting Carrington off his feet and into the air. "Goddamn!" Billy cursed, looking away from the blinding glare of the explosion. He didn't even have time to see what had happened to Carrington, but he was surely dead.

"A double cross," Simms corrected without humor. "Cover me," Simms barked, slipping over the lip of the cliff and falling the fifteen feet with a grunt and roll. Billy whistled, amused despite the situation. Old as he was, that bastard could move when he had to! Billy tracked Simms stealthy progress as he closed in on the road through the charred remains of a couple of houses. As Simms approached the mystery sniper finally came out of hiding, and ugly looking bastard with a Mohawk and enough dirt on his face to start a farm. His guess concerning the number of snipers proved correct as three more mean looking wasters jumped out of hiding and made their way casually to where the fat man was waiting.

They were celebrating or something, smiling about whatever they were saying in any case. Only a few seconds later the fat man started off, leading a brahmin with him. Something was off about that man, but he was to far away for Billy to place it. With a curse he returned his scope to the mercs, who were heading toward one of the buildings. Taking a second to make sure Simms was in position Billy lined his shot for the merc closest to the house, a woman with a clean shaven head and an old hunting rifle slung over one shoulder. The gun flashed with a familiar kick and Billy watched as the woman's head turned into a fountain of blood and bits of brain.

Though he no longer enjoyed killing Billy did take a moment to appreciate a fine shot. Before either of the other walking mercs had time to react his next shot blew a fist sized hole in the leather armor of the man standing next to his now dead partner. By the time he had brought his sights back in line the remaining two mercs had already dove into cover, one behind a care and the other finishing the run to the house and rushing under the safety of the porch's roof. Billy peered at the house, looking for any holes in the roof he could shoot through. No such luck this time. The only place in the whole damn building that seemed to be holding up nicely.

As for the merc behind the car Billy needn't have bothered. Simms was in the process of clubbing him when Billy finally returned his gaze to that area. With the merc on the ground Simms lay his rifle across the hood dead car, taking aim at something. One shot rang out, echoing across the distance like a single crash of thunder. And as if to answer if the shot had found its mark the last merc stumbled out of the cover of the porch, wobbling as if his legs were made of rubber. His hands clutched frantically at an oozing hole in his chest. More out of mercy than any perceived threat Billy ended the man's suffering, putting a bullet in the dying mercs face with a sigh. His body fell to the time worn road with an unheard thud and twitched sickly. Always with the violence, such a waste. But the battle was over and now they could search for the kids.

It took Billy a considerably longer amount of time to reach the road, him lacking the leg strength to just jump off the cliff. As he jogged around the obstacle Billy began to think of Maggie again, now that the adrenaline of battle had faded.

"Please be ok," He wasn't even sure who he was addressing the plea to. He reach the shirrif panting from the run. Simms was standing over the crumbled form of the only surviving merc, shaking his covered head slowly. He eyed Simms questioningly as he joined him.

"Just a little too hard," Was all he gave in answer before marching off. The merc was dead, Billy could tell just from the disgusting bruise on his temple. It didn't take much to kill a man when it came to a blow to that soft part of the head. He stood over the dead merc for a while, just staring down at him sadly with his remaining eye. Such a cruel world they lived in, and such cruel inhabitants it spawned. Billy was roused from his stupor by a call from the other side of the road.

"In here!" Simms barked from inside the doorway of one of the more intact houses he had seen there. "Carrrington survived." Billy stepped into the house and shook his head sourly.

"Just barely," Billy returned, looking down at the broken form before him. The man was damn near dead, the only thing contradicting his death was the wheezing breaths that issued from him every few seconds. His shirt and coat were torn in a dozen places, a severe burn oozing under each hole. Carrington's chest looked misshapen too, one side dented just enough to be noticeable.

"Ribs are broken," Simms stated simply after a gentle feeling over of the wheezing man's chest. Billy nodded an agreement and whistled. Damned if that guy didn't look angry even when he was asleep! The scowl on Carrington's unwaking face could curdle milk. "Lung punctured too." He added after listening over Carrington's mouth for a heartbeat.

"What do we do?" Billy asked nervously. Gruff as he had been, Billy was in no hurry to see the man die. Simms stood up with a groan and eyed him for a moment.

"We leave him,"

"No way!" Billy retorted before Simms had a chance to continue. He expected the battle hardened sheriff to knock him out then and there. But that didn't happen. Instead he just went on in the same grim tone.

"The kids aren't here, we both know that. And that means they were with the fat man." He explained, pointing a finger off in the direction the man in question had left from. "If we take the time to bring him back to town for aid the trail will go cold, and it will take both of us to move a man in his shape without hurting him worse than he is now."

"But we can't leave a man to die!" Billy almost laughed as he spoke for some reason. Like the idea of them leaving the man was a big joke. "It aint right damn it! Maggie and Harden wouldn't want it" Simms didn't even blink, he just turned away and started to exit the building.

"Chevron," Carrington suddenly gurgled, scaring Billy so badly he almost drew his gun. Simms stopped in his tracks, turning back to the prone man with an eyebrow raised. "His name's Chevron, I can," He gasped weakly through a mouth full of blood. "I can take you to, erm, him." Billy looked pleadingly over his shoulder at Simms, willing him not to leave.

"Get a chunk of wood to carry him on," Simms growled, shaking his head tiredly. Billy nodded almost eagerly and went further into the old dark house to find a suitable impromptu stretcher. "You'd better be worth it," Simms added once Billy was out of earshot. "If I lose my son because of you I'll make you wish I' left you here with a bullet in that ugly face."

-()-

The Lone Wanderer down the crunchy dirt at a brisk pace. The night was cool and still for a change, allowing him a moments peace out in the dangerously open flat-lands. Beside him marched his trusty companion Dogmeat. The dog wagged his tail all the way, happy for the walk and the calm. They had been walking all day and it was well into late night now. Though not really in a hurry he was excited to be on an adventure again.

Word had reached him of a riverboat docked just outside of Project Purity which was offering rides to a distant land. That was just too enticing for his wandering spirit to resist so first thing the next day he had departed with a rousing cheer from his fellow citizens. The trader who had let him know about the boat had also sold him a strange but tasty fruit he promised came from that distant land. Thinking back on the fruit and its juicy goodness he really hoped it did come from there.

His contemplation was interrupted by a sound in the distance. Dogmeat's ears flattened for a moment in worry but quickly rose back up as the maker of that sound came closer. Coming from a direction perpendicular to his own was a man and a brahmin and the man was singing. The man was round, but his singing voice was perfect for the fast paced but sad ditty he sang. As they drew closer to a crossroads the words of the song became clear.

"_Do ye mind the old horse trams a long time ago, As they passed through the city at jog trot or slow? On the level they cantered, but the pace it did kill When they got to the bottom of Ligoniel Hill_."

The man wore a back suit and hat walking with a jolly gate and singing as though there were an audience. The Lone Wanderer warmly at the sight of the happy man. It was good to see someone making the best of what they could get in the Wastes.

"_My friends all departed, and work now so scarce, The only thing left is a ride in a hearse; For the sky is my roof and my bed a brick-kiln, Yet I once was a trace-boy on Ligoniel Hill_."

The man finished just in time to notice his new company and gave a hearty wave and smile. The Lone Wanderer waved back and stopped in front of the man, offering a hand in greeting. The jolly man shook it heartily and removed his hat to reveal a set of swirling tattoos.

"Thank you for a great song," The Lone Wanderer chuckled.

"As always I live for my fans!" The man returned and bellowed laughter. His accent was something like Mortiarty's, The Lone Wanderer noticed absently.

"Where are you headed?" The Wanderer asked as Dogmeat sniffed at the man's brahmin nervously.

"Commonwealth is my destination," He answered casually petting Dogmeat, who shied away from his touch like he was made of fire. The Wanderer chalked that up to him being a stranger and kept up the conversation with gusto.

"I don't envy you the distance," The Commonwealth was about as far away as he had ever been from Megaton and the journey was harsh.

"My thanks lad," The man spoke, getting his brahmin moving again with a whistle. "Long days and pleasant nights!" He spoke over the brahmin's back as he departed.

"You too!" He returned, not sure how else to respond to the strange farewell. As he went back on his way The Lone Wanderer whistled a bit of the tune the man had been singing, relishing a new song after years of the dozen or so GNR ever bothered to play. To rapt was he in the new experience he had failed to notice that one of the packs on the man's brahmin was crying softly.

"_Yet I once was a trace-boy on Ligoniel Hill_,"


	3. Chapter 3

Ch.3 Picking up the trail

-Writer's note: As you may have already noticed I've increased the size and population of the game world. I had to do this for realistic reasons. If the most heavily populated area in the Capital Wastes (Rivet City) only housed a few dozen people then there wouldn't be enough people to last more than one more generation. Also the size of the Wastes was increased for obvious reasons. If the trip from Washington D.C to the other side of the Wasteland only took half an hour this wouldn't be a very long story. That's all from me for now!-

A voice woke him from his pained slumber. They were speaking outside of the room in which he'd been left, but the words escaped him. His eyes pried open slowly and met the dim flicker of old florescent bulbs above him. He was stretched out on a hospital cot in a small and disorganized room. The rusty metal walls gave away his location as Megaton. That meant somebody had brought him to the little clinic the town kept near the entrance. But how had he... Chris groaned as the memory came back.

_"If I loose my son because of you..."_

So the one eyed man from the bar and Simms had saved his life. Chris wasn't sure if that was something to be grateful for or cause for dread. No one did anything for free in the Wastes, and a saved life was one hell of a debt to pay. But more important than his newly acquired debt was the matter of Chevron... and Abigale. His teeth clicked together painfully in response to the sudden flood of anger. That bastard had betrayed him and tried to kill him, but the anger was mostly reserved for himself. He should have known Chevron would find out about the supposedly dead androids.

He sighed and looked down at his body to assess the damage and get his mind away from the thought clouding anger. He was shirtless but wrapped in bandages in all the places his shirt would have covered anyway. His pants were worse for wear but remained where they belonged. Looking to the chair beside his cot he found what was left of his shirt, and gladly enough found his coat undamaged.

"So you're awake," Chris looked away from the chair and sized up his newly arrived company. Chris was joined by an old and pissed off looking man. He hauled himself into a sitting position with a grunt, finding the pain he'd expected all along in his chest. The old man (his name was Church, Chris remembered from his time buying supplies) noticed the grimace and nodded his head. "That's going to give you some trouble for a few days," He sounded angry, Chris didn't care to figure out why.

"Where are the two who brought me here?" Chris croaked, his throat surprisingly raw. Instead of answering straight away Doc Church handed him an open bottle of water and continued glaring at him until he'd taken a few careful gulps. His throat cried for more of the soothing liquid but Chris set it down beside him and returned his eyes to Church.

"They went to get supplies," Chris was starting to get up before the old doctor blocked his path and pushed him firmly back to the cot. "And the Sheriff told me to let you know bad things were going to happen if you left this clinic without his permission," Chris almost laughed but his aching chest prevented it.

"Bad things hu?" Chris smirked and settled himself back into the cot. Church nodded his agreement and took a seat next to the cot, brushing Chris's cloths onto the floor carelessly. He withheld an angered comment and picked the coat off the floor, draping it over his shoulders despite the lack of a shirt.

"Near as I can tell you're helping Simms find his son, aren't you?" Chris sighed and massaged the base of his nose tiredly.

"Looks like it," The thought didn't appeal to him, but he needed help getting to Chevron. And those kids didn't stand a chance in Paradise Falls. It wasn't the kind of thing Chris would have given a moment of consideration to before he'd met her. The realization that he was changing troubled him deeply but he let the train of thought drop for another time.

"Well I hope you find him," Chris opened his eyes, almost startled by the grouchy doctor's change in tone. "Harden used to come and visit me at work, he's a good kid. So is Creel's little girl." He waited for Church to finish but that was all that came.

"Why are you telling me this?" Chris was getting angry, which happened often when he was forced to acknowledge the plight of others. It wasn't a rational reaction he knew, but it was there and he couldn't change that.

"Just thought you should know, that's all..." He sounded almost disappointed with Chris. Church stood with a crack of his back and left Chris alone in the rusty room. Chris waited a moment after the door closed before laying back down on the cot.

"What to do, what to do..." He whispered to the ceiling. If it had an answer it chose not to share with him.

-()-

Lucas Simms and Billy Creel had been waiting for over half an hour before his temper began to slip. The Craterside Supply was the best place in town to go shopping for equipment of almost any kind, if you could put up with the eccentric owner.

"We need to get moving as soon as possible," Simms repeated for the third time, tapping his finger against the counter of the shop irritably. Moira Brown the owner of the Craterside Supply, stopped rifling through the locker long enough to answer.

"Just a minute," She excused herself cheerfully. "I know I have some canteens sitting around here somewhere!" As she finished a large box of odds and ends fall from the top shelf and nearly landed on her head. If she noticed she gave no hint, only went back to searching. Billy glanced sidelong at the guard who Moira had hired to protect the shop, who rolled his eyes knowingly.

"If you don't have any it's fine, we'll find some bottles to carry water in," Billy suggested after a few more minutes of fruitless searching on Moira's part.

"Gee, I'm sorry guys, I could have sworn I had some leftover canteens from my oil recycling experiment," She sounded as close to disappointed as her upbeat tone ever reached, which wasn't much.

"So, uh." Billy added with a frown. "Those canteens had oil in them?" Moira nodded happily and re closed the locker. "Maybe it's for the best we didn't find them."

"That's all for us then, stay safe Miss Brown." Simms told her before hoisting his newly filled pack.

"Why thank you Mr. Sheriff!" Moira returned heartily. Billy smiled to himself at the sight of such a happy woman in the Wastes, a rare thing indeed. But they really had wasted too much time already he knew. Billy picked up his pack and joined Simms at the door.

"Pleasant trails Moira," Billy bade her farewell as they went into the midday heat. Her answer was cut off by the closing of the door behind them.

"On to business," Simms spoke solemnly, starring down the walkway to the town clinic.

"Yep," Billy answered, trying to sound happy about it.

-()-

Chris stretched slowly in the new shirt and pants Church had grudgingly supplied him with. They were the same simple white shirt and large pocketed set he wore himself, as did most Wasteland doctors. Once he was satisfied that they fit well enough he placed his old coat over them and replaced his now partially burnt hat on his head.

As he went through the motions Chris took stock of his body's recovery, which was surprisingly far along for one day. Church had told him they'd pumped him with enough Stimpacks to kill a Behemoth just to keep him alive when he was brought in. Now that his life was no longer in danger it looked like they were going to work on his body double time. By the time his clothes were properly in place there were only a few bruises and shallow cuts to cover.

"You finished yet?" Church shouted from the desk at the front of the clinic. Chris ignored the question and gave himself one last look over before joining the crotchety old man in the front room. Church's eyed flicked up to Chris briefly and returned to his clip board without any noticeable feeling.

"Know when they'll be back?" Chris asked idly, taking a seat across from him.

"Nope," Church answered without looking up. Chris's eye twitched in annoyance. Saving his life or not, Chris decided, he didn't like that man. As if he'd read his mind Church snorted a laugh and flipped to the next page on his board.

"Anything to drink in this place?" Chris asked, changing tactics suddenly. Anger management always had been one of his major issues and he couldn't take much more of the old Doctor's sour demeanor. Church looked up from his papers now and sighed irritably. Instead of an answer he brought a dusty bottle and two shot glasses out of his desk, leaving his clip board for another time. Chris gave a curt nod of his head and took the glass of sweet smelling whiskey. One thing he'd learned in his years out in the Wastes was that if one thing can bring people together it was alcohol.

"Cheers," Church toasted him with more than a little irony. Chris smirked and clinked glasses with him before downing the fiery concoction in one gulp. Church did the same and blew out a wheezy breath with wide opened eyes.

"Good stuff," Chris chuckled as the doctor refilled his glass. Church gave a little smirk in return and threw back the second shot, grimacing.

"Should be," Church told him after another two shots. "Cost me fifty caps from the trade caravan," His typically grim tone fading away under the soothing burn of the alcohol. It probably wasn't a good idea to get loaded before heading out, Chris knew, but at the same time... what the hell. By the sixth shot he couldn't remember why he was mad to begin with and by his seventh he was having a great time!

So they drank and talked, more the first than the second though. It felt good to just relax, he hadn't relaxed in such a very long time. Maybe he deserved a little break, Chris thought through the mind numbing haze. He wasn't sure what the brand of Whiskey was, but he'd keep an eye out for it from now on.

Finally Church dropped the empty bottle into the wast bin and slumped in his seat contentedly. Chris was nodding off happily in his chair, letting the pleasant buzz take away bitter memories for a while. He had fallen asleep within a few minutes without ever being aware that he was sleepy. Church joined him in slumber with his head against the desk, a string of drool soaking into his papers.

-()-

"What in the Hell am I looking at?" Simms growled in the doorway of the clinic, an amused Billy laughing behind him. The mercenary and Doc Church were passed out in his desk room, both reeking of booze.

"A good time?" Billy answered, stepping in behind him and letting the door slam close with a bang. Carrington bolted up from his chair with a bleary eyed glare. Church remained asleep. rolling his head to the other side and spreading the large puddle that had grown on his desk.

"Have you forgotten why we're in a hurry?" Simms barked at Billy, ignoring the now fully awakened Carrington. Billy's smile vanished instantly, in its place a scowl.

"Don't think being an asshole will help us get the kids back any faster Lucas," He muttered defensively. It wasn't that he'd forgotten, he had learned to find the light side of things after many hard years in a very grim world. If he hadn't learned to take a joke he would have gone mad out there amongst all the horror and killing of thr Wastes.

"So we're going after Chevron then?" Chris asked without really making it a question. Billy frowned thoughtfully at the clear and purposeful tone the man had summoned, alcohol must not affect him like it did Billy. He wouldn't be forming complete sentences yet if he'd drank as much as he suspected they had. None the less Carrington's icy blue eyes took in everything around him with silent calculation, it made Billy want to shiver.

"You have any supplies?" Simms asked gruffly, looking Carrington up and down with open distaste.

"Hid them in a broken down house in Springvale before I went to meet with Chevron," Carrington had the same no nonsense kind of tone as Simms, Billy noticed with dread. This was going to be a long trip with those two for company.

"I don't trust you," Simms said bluntly, both men's eyes meeting unflinchingly. It was the kind of look people gave right before duels started, Billy thought nervously.

"Fair enough," Carrington answered, his voice held an edge now.

"As far as I'm concerned that man wouldn't have been anywhere near my town if you hadn't been here," Billy sighed, he knew where this was going and it wouldn't remain civil much longer if he was right. But Carrington remained silent and unreadable. "But you help me find my son without any bullshit and I'll say we're good," Simms finished, taking a surprisingly diplomatic turn.

"Fair enough," Carrington repeated, with the same hostile edge. Not exactly the easiest pair to get along with in the world, Billy thought.

-()-

They left the clinic without waking Church, heading to the gates Simms had parted the company of the Lone Wanderer at only a day before. There was no fanfare this time around, no cheering masses for the departing men. They didn't say a word to each other as they climbed the steep dirt path through the center of the town, an icy silence separating them. It was just as well Chris thought, he didn't plan on staying with these two any longer than necessary. And the lack of speaking made it a bit easier to hide the headache he was getting from the drink, which he had now concluded was a bad idea.

Simms took a position ahead of Chris and Billy, probably thinking himself a natural leader Chris assumed. they reached the gates and Simms stopped short of the opening mechanism, raising a hand to halt them without explanation. Chris scowled, taking orders wasn't his kind of thing.

"Are we leaving today or not?" He asked in a growl. Simms turned back to them and looked at Chris with something close to amusement.

"Can't leave just yet," He told them calmly. When it became clear he had not intention of finishing the statement Chris spoke up again.

"And that would be because?" He was quickly getting tired of the old Sheriff, and they hadn't even gotten started on the journey.

"My replacement isn't here yet," Simms answered and Chris got the distinct feeling the old man was enjoying toying with him. His next comment was cut off by the rumbling grate of the gate opening behind Simms back. If Chris had been carrying a gun he would have drawn it on the spot, but barring that he spat a curse and resisted the urge to back away from the towering figure that emerged from the entrance.

"It is good to see you again Mr. Simms," The Super Mutant greeted Simms, who shook his massive hand casually. Chris blinked, his mind trying to catch up with what the hell was going on. First thing was first, there was a damn Super Mutant standing in Megaton! Second nobody seemed surprised but him. And third the god damned Sheriff was grinning as him like it was all a joke!

"And you too Fawkes," Simms returned the greeting without breaking his nerve grating look at Chris. Next the Super Mutant in the tattered blue jumpsuit greeted Billy, who returned it with the same calm as Simms, though without the malice he had aimed at Chris. Chris stifled a shiver as the monster finally came to him, reaching a hand in greeting that was alost as big as Chris's head.

"You must be Mr. Carrington," The Super Mutant spoke with a level of sophistication hampered only slightly by the gravely voice it came from. His whole hand was enveloped by the thing's as it shook gently, an experience Chris hoped never to repeat. But at least the surprise had faded away. He'd heard something about a tame Super Mutant following the Lone Wanderer at times throughout his many exploits. Personally Chris had thought it a bit of fable added to the truth for flavor. "Mr. Simms has informed me of your less than fortunate situation, and requested my assistance in maintaining law and order during his absence."

"Good luck," Chris returned his hand to his side, letting his default impoliteness cover his unease at the proximity of the legendary Mutant. If Fawkes was bothered by the comment he showed no sign, which almost annoyed Chris.

"And good luck to you on your hunt," Fawkes gave a little bow and turned back to Simms. "Rest assured your town will come to no harm under my watch," He reasured the Sheriff in his strangely inhuman voice. Simms gave a small grin and patted Fawkes on the upper arm, not being able to reach the tall Mutant's shoulder.

"I trust you Fawkes," He had to look straight up to talk to Fawkes face to face, which made Chris smirk. "You and the Vault kid have more than earned it," They filed past the giant after a few more pleasantries were passed ignored by Chriss. Billy stopped to wave a farewell to the closing gates of Megaton behind them. Simms gave a nod of his head. Chris merely looked back at the town with a frown and kept walking. They had business to take care of, and he wouldn't miss the place.

-Writer's note: Sorry for the many fragments this chapter came in, it won't happen again (I think). This chapter was the set up for the beginning of the "journey" and thus the beginning of the actual plot. I separate the changing of the central point of view with the segments and this chapter required a brief take on each man's state of mind before the departure. So from now on look forward to only having one or two central character views per chapter. And thanks for reading this far!-


	4. Chapter 4

Ch.4 Out in the Wastes

They departed Megaton into the sweltering heat of high noon in the Wasteland. The road to Springvale shimmered ahead of them as though it may disappear at any moment, another victim of the heat. If the temperature bothered Simms he gave no sing of it, though Billy had been making "witty" remarks about the moment they had cleared the town. Even with the remarks they marched onward without complaint or pause, each eager to be started with the hunt.

Chris could tell the long periods of silence bothered Billy, who tried numerous times to bate either of them into conversation fruitlessly. Halfway to Springvale he gave up and joined them in bitter silence. Chris was almost disappointed by the loss of Billy's talkative nature, it was refreshing to have a voice traveling with him even if the owner of the voice annoyed him to no end. But he shrugged his shoulders and let the feeling pass. Too many things to worry about without adding useless problems to it.

It didn't take long to get back to Springvale, and even less time for Chris to point out the house in which he'd hidden his pack. It looked just like any of the other broken down houses that littered the ghost town but he had picked it for its proximity to the meeting place. Only two houses away lay the broken doorway he'd been thrown through only a day before. Simms and Billy waited outside the skeletal remains of the houses wooden fence, letting Chris enter alone.

The house creaked and groaned at Chris's entrance as it had the first time he'd come there. A long time ago Abby had told him that houses carried the memories of those who had lived in them. If it was true than there wasn't a house built before the war that wasn't full of bad memories and death. The mental image of Abby's sagely knowledgeable voice brought the whisper of a smile to his face for just a moment. Then it was gone and his naturally grim appearance returned, spurred by the realization that if he failed in his mission memories like that would be all that he'd ever have of Abby again.

He didn't stop again until he reached the master bedroom of the dusty old house. Unlike many houses left over from before the war this one didn't contain any skeletons, for which Chris was grateful. Still the wrinkled sheets and nearly dissolved headboard gave him pause. He wondered what where the one who'd slept there had been when the bombs dropped. Maybe he had been on his way home to this very bed, looking forward to rest and finding a very different type before he ever reached it.

Chris tore his eyes from the bed and went to one knee before it, grasping under the decrepit frame until he found what he was looking for. The pack was about as important as any other material good was to him, which was to say not at all. He knew what was important in this world and is sure wasn't anything that could be purchased for the few caps he'd spent on the old leather bag years ago. Even so he'd need it and its cargo before the journey was over, not in the least for the water and food it held. He sat down on the bed quickly, ignoring the cloud of dust that rose from its first disturbance in centuries. From the bag he withdrew his belt, on which hung his knife and gun.

The gun was just an old 10mm sub machine gun he'd bought from a merchant who's face had long since faded from his memory. It could just as easily have been a hunting rifle or a magnum like Billy's for all the good they ever did him. His aim left many things to be desired. The knife though... that was one of the few things he'd carried since before he had left the Commonwealth. It wouldn't be a terrible tragedy if he lost it but he was pretty sure he'd never find one as high quality.

The knife looked like many combat knives one could find in the Wastes, a slightly curved black blade ending in a cord bound handle. But the blade was special, made from an alloy not found outside of the high tech facility of the Commonwealth. The non-glare midnight blade was perfect for stealth and could even cut through power armor with a bit of effort. But the main reason he carried it was simple, he couldn't shoot worth a damn but he could put a knife through an eye at a hundred yards.

He would have been shocked to know how comfortable he would become with weapons in the future if someone had told him years ago. But he had become more than comfortable, he'd become reliant. Abby especially would hate to know the many things he had been forced to do to survive out there. And even worse were the things he chosen to do just to get ahead out there. Chris wasn't sure if he quite regretted his ill deeds per say, but he wasn't about to repeat them any time soon.

Once the belt was secured around his waist to his satisfaction he stood and let the pack fall onto its customary place over his shoulder. And without a second glance he left the room and the house, finished for the time being with memories and ghosts.

-()-

They left without a word once Carrington emerged from the house with his pack and weapons. Billy had been curious about what kind of arms the surly merc would keep and was mildly surprised at the modest weapons. The 10mm would have drawn most people's eye but Billy instantly noticed the way Carrington's hand stayed within range of the knife handle unconsciously. The knife was definitely his go to weapon Billy knew without needing to ask. You learned to look for the signs after a few years in the Wasteland, well you learned or you died.

Simms didn't even look at the weapons, just nodded at Carrington for some reason and began the trek north. Billy took a position behind Simms and beside Carrington and got the feeling this would be the way they traveled for the duration. Springvale was far out of sight by the time the sun began to lower, taking with it a small bit of the stifling heat. Not that the night wasn't a little hot out there too.

"How long you been a mercenary?" Billy asked after what felt like an eternity of nothing but purposeful forward glares and scowls. Carrington answered without looking at Billy, like he was talking to the dirt path ahead of them.

"What makes you think I'm a merc?" Anyone else would have sounded amused, but Carrington just managed to sound disinterested.

"Because you get payed to do things for men who steal children?" Carrington snorted a short laugh which brought back Billy's usual smile, that had been absent for longer than usual due to his company.

"As far as I know this is Chevron's first foray into the field of kidnapping," Carrington sounded amused now, which bothered Billy more than a little. "And I wasn't being payed, it was more of a barter," It was strange how many fancy words Carrington knew for somebody who lived in the Wastes. But then again, Billy didn't know where Carrington was born and he didn't plan on asking at the moment.

"So what was it you were supposed to get from him?" He half expected Carrington not to answer, but got a pleasant surprise when the man finally spoke up again.

"I'll say it was something I needed dearly and leave it at that," He didn't sound mad, and his eyes had grown distant. Billy recognized it as the look of someone traveling through his past. Nobody was without bad memories in this kind of world he knew. And most people wanted those memories kept in the dark little corners of their minds.

"Well thanks for sharing," Billy chuckled and patted the grim man's shoulder.

"Hrrm," Carrington mumbled in return. But he hadn't slapped Billy's hand off, so he considered it a victory at least in part. Not wanting to loose momentum in the conversation Billy tapped Simms on the shoulder and asked.

"So how long have you been working at Megaton Lucas? You've been living there since before me and Maggie got there."

"Why do you care Billy?" Simms barked, but with something closer to weariness than anger.

"Hey I know you're worried about your son," Billy told him gently, speeding up to walk beside him. "But he and Maggie are going to be ok, you hear me?" Simms looked to Billy and raised a brow in surprise, a grin slowly growing on his bearded old mug.

"Ya, I hear you Billy." They shared a laugh and kept walking for a few minutes longer before Simms called a stop.

"What's wrong?" Carrington asked warily, his hand hovering near the handle of his knife. Simms shook his head and gestured for him to calm down.

"Nothing, but its about time to make camp." Before any objections could be made he added. "I won't do us any good to catch him if we're to tired to put up a fight when we find him. Besides as long as he doesn't know he's being followed he'll be stopping at night too."

Billy looked around the dimly star lit darkness around them and nodded his head in agreement. When it was clear Carrington wasn't going to object they searched around the area until Simms found a roughly level patch of dirt near the sheer drop of a cliff in the moon light. The small scorch mark in the middle of the circle clued them in to the fact that the clearing had been used for such purposes before. Billy and Simms settled down on the ground as Carrington vanished into the darkness without a word. He returned before either of them could begin to worry, dragging two large planks behind him.

"Got any matches?" Carrington asked, dropping the wood on the scorch mark. Simms pulled out a box and tossed them to him without comment.

So they sat around the modest fire and watched the stars, not even Billy feeling the need to say anything. It was peaceful out that night, a rare thing in such chaotic times. After a while Simms was snoring loudly into his down turned hat. Billy grinned at the sound of the old man's slumber. After a few hours it became clear that Billy wouldn't be able to get to sleep with so many things on his mind, and for whatever reason Carrington still remained awake.

Without looking at Billy Carrington rose from his spot and stretched soundlessly. Again without a word Carrington left the camp, but this time didn't vanish before Billy's eye. Instead he walked slowly over to the edge of the cliff a little way outside the fire light and stopped. Panic welled up as Billy assumed Carrington was about to take the short road to the end. He blew out a relieved sigh when Carrington sat down instead, from what he could see letting his feet hand over the edge.

"Never let a man think alone," Billy chuckled to himself, leaving the fire light to join him.

-()-

"Big Town," Chris told Billy as he joined him on the edge of the rocky cliff. He pointed to the distant building lights below and far away from them. Billy nodded his head and let his feet dangle like Chris's.

"I've been there once or twice," Billy said with a smile. "Back before I found Maggie that is," Chris expected his face to darken at the mention of his missing child, but instead the smile persisted. Billy took out a pack of cigarettes, lighting two and handing one to Chris before taking one to his lips with the ease of one who had been smoking for a long time.

"Thanks," Chris muttered, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and burning paper. Billy nodded his head and returned the box and matches to his pocket. Chris watched the man from the corner of his eye, masking the movement with the billowing smoke. Why was this man going so far out of his way to be friendly to him? It could be a ploy to gain his trust but Chris doubted it, Billy didn't seam like the type to double cross. Maybe he really had been out in the Wastes too long, Chris considered. He had come to think of almost everybody as potential enemies, and distrust overt acts of kindness on the spot. He didn't need any friends at the moment, Chris knew that well enough. But maybe he could just enjoy the company while it lasted.

"Sunrise," Billy sighed with a hand lazily raised at the growing orange tint the horizon was taking behind them. "Just can't beat a one out in the wild!" Chris agreed without saying so out loud. As the sun rose the form of Big Town took on greater clarity. It was a rough square of buildings with improvised walls build between the outer buildings to form a parameter around the populated ones in the center. Chris had only been there once before but from what he'd seen those walls were put there for good reason, not that they ever did any good. Unfortunately for the residents Big Town happened to be settle right in the middle of countless threats and territories, ensuring the town was in constant danger.

"The Vault kid's been there too," Billy informed him. During his brief stay at Megaton Chris had learned that The Lone Wanderer seamed to make up quite a bit of the conversation for those who lived there. Well he couldn't blame them really, if he'd been born in such a small town he would probably grasp at whatever he could for stimulation conversation too.

"So I've heard," He flicked the cigarette but off the cliff as he spoke, watching it sail into the twilight of the early morning. "Saved the town from a hoard of Super Mutants didn't he?"

"Yep, rescued the town doctor from their stronghold too," Billy finished and let his cigarette follow Chris's. He'd heard that story amongst many others during his travels. The kid from Vault 101 was living a very interesting life if all the stories were true. "In fact I think he," Billy froze in mid word as a distant rumble reached their ears. Chris recognized the sound instantly as he was sure Billy had too.

"Frag Grenade," Chris growled, Billy nodded his agreement. They both stood and watched as three tiny flashes at the distant entrance of Big Town preceded further rumbles.

"I'll go get Simms," Billy shouted as he took off back toward camp. Chris didn't answer, he was listening intently and peering at the town. Then he heard the sound he was waiting for, the sharp crack of hunting rifles. Only one thing in all the world traveled in groups and was armed with those two specific arms.

"Super Mutants," He whispered. "Damn..."


	5. Chapter 5

Ch.5 Big trouble all over again

"I can't tell how many, but they're winning..." Carrington responded. Simms took another look over the small rock formation they had taken cover behind. It had taken the better part of twenty minutes to get around the cliff and the battle was still raging inside the town walls. They had the cliff to their backs and the town ahead of them now. Across the small expanse of flatland between them and the town a life or death battle was heading for a brutal end.

"We've gotta help them!" Billy cried his pistol out and ready. Simms didn't disagree, but he wasn't about to charge into the fray without a plan. Getting all three of them killed wouldn't do the townspeople a bit of good.

"If we go through the entrance we're going to get fire from both sides before we even have a chance to explain ourselves." Carrington explained hurriedly. Billy was about to charge out of cover Simms could tell, but Carrington went on. "If we break down one of the doors one the wall houses we can get in from the side and surprise the Mutants," Simms was nodding before Carrington had even finished. It was a sound plan and they were running out of time to choose.

"Stay low and follow me!" Simms growled, rolling out of the shadow of the rocks and rushing out. Carrington was faster than Billy and managed to stay beside Simms the whole time, his rapidly moving feet not making a sound. They needn't have bothered with stealth though, none of the Super Mutants had remained outside the town to keep watch and with so much noise inside the town a bomb going off wouldn't have drawn a second look.

They didn't have to look long before Simms found a door on the side of one of the buildings loosely boarded enough for him to kick off the hinges. He paused at the doorway and eyed Carrington and Billy in turn. Both nodded the go ahead and readied weapons, Billy his Magnum and Carrington his knife. With a final preparatory inhale Simms sent the door off its hinges with a crash of his boot and dove into the shadows of the house.

They followed him quickly, eyes scanning every inch of the dirty and empty house. They had come in through a small kitchen door, the only light pouring through the doorway and the few holes in the boarded up windows. The din of battle outside was distant now, though they were closer than ever. Simms could feel the emptiness of the house, a kind of sixth sense everyone developed after few battles. This house hadn't been entered in years, just a section of the wall the town used to protect itself. Or, he corrected himself, try to protect itself anyway. The houses of Big Town were all relatively similar, one or two stories of rotting wood and nails.

They went to the front of the house through a musty hallway, ignoring the other rooms of the house altogether. The front room was probably a living room before the war, complete with what was left of a couch and TV. The windows took up half the wall but were boarded up now, letting slants of daylight in between the planks. Billy looked to the stairwell on the other side of the room and headed over before calling in a whisper.

"Better line of site, I'll cover you!" Carrington nodded and went to the window.

"Nice and easy," Simms cautioned him, taking the other end of the plank Carrington was pulling on. A few good tugs had the plank sitting on the floor and both men ducked as the sounds of gunfire magnified three fold. When it became clear none of the gunfire was aimed at them Simms raised up and looked through the window.

Down the street the hulking forms of three Super Mutants were firing at something further down the road, backs turned to the house they were in. Their yellowish skin was gleaming under the glaring sun, covered only partially by the bits of armor plating they had tied on. Each Mutant was shouting curses and unloading with the hunting rifles their kind was known to carry. The house they fired at was full of holes, the door a fragmented mess on the ground. Sporadic return fire shot out at the Mutants, not even close to scoring a hit.

"Ok on the count of," Simms whispered but stopped in mid sentence when he noticed he was alone in the room. He whirled around, searching for Carrington, who had disappeared without a trace. Cursing silently Simms went back to the window, and saw Carrington creeping slowly down the narrow street toward the Super Mutants. He withheld a hiss of surprise at the site of the duster clad man sneaking up on three armed Super Mutants, his reflexes taking hold.

Carrington was heading toward the one on the left, so Simms let the barrel of his rifle swivel toward the one on the right. Hopefully one of them would be able to take out the third one before it painted the wall with his brains. Timed slowed down as Carrington lept from his slow crouch, sailing in the air as silent as a shadow with his knife hammering downward. From where he was kneeling at the window Simms could hear the knife punch a hole through the Super Mutant's skull, burying itself to the hilt. Carrington was suspended a few feet above the ground, hanging onto the knife which he'd lodged in the back of the thing's head.

His finger twitched expertly and the muzzle flashed three times in rapid succession. By the time the first Super Mutant was falling to the ground with Carrington on its back the one on the far right stumbled forward as its back rippled from three shots pounding home. It wasn't dead but it dropped its rifle and roared in pain, his fellow Mutant whirling around and bringing its gun to bear against the recovering Carrington. His knife tugged out freely as the thing prepared to fire. It was too late for him to kill the thing Simms knew, not with a knife. A gun shot cracked... and the Super Mutants head exploded into a shower of skull fragments.

"Yeehaw!" The cry came from above Simms, on the top floor of the house. Apparently Billy had found his clear line of sight. Carrington didn't pause, charging the injured Super Mutant and performing a forward version of his previous attack before its very shocked eyes. The thing only had time to raise hand pitifully before the knife found its mark dead between its eyes. Carrington waved a thanks to the top floor and froze, looking across the intersection of the roads at something beyond Simms view. Then he was off, running with perfect stealth out of Simms view.

"Billy," Simms called up the stairs. "We need to go after him!" The sounds of gunfire hadn't stopped, which could only mean there were more Super Mutants in the town. Whatever Billy had said in answer was lost as the door to the front room imploded, a large yellow fist replacing it.

"FOUND YOU!" The Super Mutant bellowed, charging into the room with a gun the size of a grown man. It was more heavily armored than his fellow Mutants, which marked him as what people called at "Brut." Its wide opened blood shot eyes shot daggers at Simms as it brought its massive weapon toward him.

"Shit!" Simms cried as the minigun's barrels cycled to life.

-()-

Chris ran down the road as fast as he could, knife cocked in a throwing stance. The scream was a woman's, and what was about to happen wasn't hard to guess. Super Mutants weren't above hurting women, or kids. The streets were empty of people and Super Mutants, the fighting was now coming only from the house he approached. Like the other houses that had been attacked this one was now without a door.

He stopped at the empty doorway, listening carefully. Heavy footsteps thumped around the house in the room closest to him. The feet were too big to be human. But whoever had screamed wasn't among the living anymore, he was sure of it. Once the boot falls became a bit more distant Chris entered the house silently. He was right about the owner of the voice he'd heard, judging from the ladies corpse he found crumpled on the floor of the living room. Somewhere in the back fo the house a thump gave away the Super Mutant's sparing another glance at the dead woman Chris stalked down the hall, blending into each shadow as he went.

"NO ONE ELSE HERE!" The voice bellowed from the kitchen. Chris froze, kneeling on the other side of the corner the voice had come from.

"KEEP LOOKING IDIOT!" Another one boomed from the same room. They spoke in a constant shout, Chris had learned that after a few encounters with the towering monsters. Chris waited for a moment longer, thinking out his plan of attack. It didn't take a genius to know a human didn't stand much of a chance in close quarters with two Super Mutants. For the hundredth time since leaving Megaton he wished he had made enough room in his pack for grenades. He'd have to make do with what he had though.

He entered the room calmly and without a sound, finding one super mutant hunched over and rifling through a cabinet. The other was staring at him somebody had just told it a joke it didn't get.

"WHAT," The thing started to question but was cut of by the spray of bullets from Chris's gun, only a few of which managed to hit the thing and even then nothing lethal to the resilient monster. The other Super Mutant stood suddenly at the sound, his head cracking into the cabinet with a crunch.

"TIME TO DO DIE!" It bellowed, drawing a nasty looking plank with half a dozen nails driven through it. The Mutant he'd fruitlessly shot at drew a similar one and took a menacing step forward. Chris held his ground, knife held in a reverse grip to better compliment the gun in his other hand. Chris withdrew a few steps as the closest one charged forward. In the hallway they would have to go in single file, and couldn't' surround him.

The Mutant rushed on with a downward swipe that could have driven a dull spike through sheet metal. Chris back stepped quickly and felt the wind of the blow as it passed within an inch of his nose. The club hit the floor with a wump, the nails burying themselves into the wooden floor. The Mutant tugged at the stuck weapon with a bellowed curse. Taking advantage of the moment Chris nimbly ran forward and up the weapon's length, stopping at eye level with the creature in a crouch. The Super Mutant looked confused again, debating with the options of dropping the weapon and attacking with its fists or trying to throw him off and unsticking the weapon.

Chris ended the debate by placing the barrel of his gun on the thing's eyes, driving it forward into the thing's socket as he fired. At that range a blind man couldn't miss. The Super Mutants brains flew out the back of its head, spraying its partner behind it. Chris jumped off the weapon before the twitching corpse dropped it and fell to the ground. The last Mutant stepped over its dead partner and growled at Chris furiously.

"Come on," Chris sneered at the ugly thing, It took a quick glance at the weapon sticking in the floor behind it and replaced its own club in its back holster. Then it raised its massive fists and charged on unarmed. "Smart," Chris said before the Super Mutant barreled into him and lifted him from his feet while still running. Stars appeared in his vision as he was slammed into the wall of the living room, two giant hands clasped around his neck and keeping his feet dangling off the floor.

"I''L FEAST ON YOUR BONES WHEN YOU'RE DEAD!" The thing screamed at him with a horrid smile. If he could have mustered the wind he'd have spat on the thing. The Super Mutant's grip was iron clad, not budging an inch as Chris plunged the knife into its forearm. He thought about using the gun but his arm wouldn't lift, and after another moment his other hand fell away too, leaving the knife in the monster's arm. His body was betraying him in its hunger for air. His vision went purple around the edges and a ringing blared in his ears. He knew death was near, had to be judging on how distant the pain was getting.

Just before his world could disappear completely a hammering bang pierced the ringing in his ears and the giant hands unclenched. Chris fell to his knees with a rasping intake of air, feeding his deprived lungs painfully. His head swam, on the verge of fainting. He fought the feeling down and looked up from the floor. The Super Mutant was dead, the top half of its head a bloody mess. Confusion briefly came before Chris looked across the room and found a boy holding a smoking pistol in trembling hands.

The boy couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, his dirty clothes ill fitting on his thin frame. He was eyeballing Chris warily and with the shaking gun not lowered. Chris pulled himself to his feet, once again having to fight off the dizzy feeling. As the boy watched he crouched and yanked the knife out of the Mutant's arm with a quick jerk. He almost smirked when the boy flinched at the wet slurp the knife made.

"I won't hurt you," Chris told him, raising a gloved hand and walking slowly to the door of the house. It must not have crossed the boy's mind that Chris was just trying to help. If the woman laying dead on the floor only a few feet away was the boy's mother as he suspected Chris couldn't really blame him for his distrust. "Stay hidden until they're all gone." He told the boy from the doorway.

"Th, thank you," The boy stammered as Chris left the house. Well at least he had understood that much, Chris thought as he limped down the road.

-()-

Simms was running across them room, a stream of bullets destroying everything behind him within an inch of his rapidly moving body. All thoughts of counter attack fell away as Simms shot down the hallway, followed quickly by the Super Mutant Brute and his very large gun. He only just managed to dive into a side room when the hallway buzzed with bullets and the insane laughter of the Super Mutant.

He lifted his Rifle into a firing position as the Super Mutant made its way down the hall, spraying fire the whole way. Then he thought better of it and lay down flat on his back, aiming the rifle at what he guessed would be head level. The Super Mutant turned into the room with its weapon held high, and obscuring its view of Simms completely. The hail of the minigun passed harmlessly over Simms prone position. One shot at this, Simms thought grimly.

The Chinese Assault rifle chattered wildly, muzzle flash blaring. Sparks pinked off the huge gun in the things hands as Simms kept up the fire, blasting a dozen holes into the ammo box of the weapon. The thing finally figured out what was happening and lowered the weapon. Simms flinched as the constant stream of bullets approached his level despite the rounds he was putting into the weapon itself. Just before a bullet could find its mark the minigun's barrels stopped with a shriek of twisted metal and a small cloud of smoke.

The look on the Super Mutant's face was almost comically shocked as it looked at its broken weapon. Before he could press the advantage the Mutant did something he did not expect, it lifted the weapon over its head and roared.

"Shit!" Simms yelled for the second time as the Brute prepared to smash him to pieces with a broken gun.

It stopped in mid swing, looking down in surprise and confusion at the six holes that had appeared in its chest. Simms was almost as confused as the monster, he hadn't been able to hear the gunfire over the thing's roar. Their eyes met for a moment in mutual understanding before the Brute collapsed into a head on top of him.

Billy Creel couldn't help but laugh at the site of the hard ass sheriff trying to squirm out from under the dead Super Mutant. Taking a moment to savor the humor and reload his magnum Billy looked down both sides of the hall to check for any more wayward Super Mutants.

"Get this damn thing off of me!" Simms wheezed angrily. Billy chuckled again and pulled the Mutant up by its armor, but damn if it wasn't heavy he thought. Simms crawled out from under it and stood with a groan. He was covered almost head to toe in blood from the fresh kill.

"Don't you look nice," Billy whistled.

"Shut the hell up Billy," Simms growled, but he didn't stop Billy from patting him on the shoulder as they left the house.

The day was still early judging by the sun's position in the sky. The battle had taken only a few minutes, but it had felt like forever, as they always did afterward. And over it was, they could both tell by the feeling of the place and the calm that had fallen over it. They waited in the main road, Simms dusting off his cloths as best he could and Billy lighting up a cigarette. Before long Chris joined them with a nod of his head and not much else.

It took the townspeople a little while longer to come out, and they did so hesitantly. One by one they came from the broken down buildings of Big Town, some from doors and others through broken windows. They surrounded the group but did so peacefully. There were only a few dozen of them, all dirty and scared. They gathered around the three with fear and gratitude printed on each face. Simms stepped forward first, raising his hands to silence voices that hadn't even come.

"The Super Mutants are dead," He told them simply. "Good by," He added, parting the crowd as he left. Chris and Billy fell into step behind him, heading for the front entrance this time as apposed to the improvised one they'd made before. Billy wasn't one to seek praise but a thank you from even one of them would have been nice. Instead they just looked to their feet and remained quite. They were almost to the little bridge out of town when a voice spoke up from the group.

"Wait!" Billy tuned first, a smile breaking over his face. Finally, somebody showing so gratitude. The woman had dark skin and a bandanna covering the top of her head. She ran toward them frantically, only stopping when she was a few steps away. "Wait," She repeated, nearly out of breath. Billy glanced over his companions. Simms waited passively, but Carrington looked like he was beginning to get pissed off.

"What do you need mam?" Billy asked, offering his hand. The woman shook it briefly, collecting herself before she spoke again.

"You can't leave yet," She told them despairingly. "The Mutants have been attacking us for days and taking slaves like they used to years ago. And the ones you killed were just a few of them!" Billy nodded his head as she went on in a high pitched chatter. "When the others come back and find out this group is dead... they'll wipe out the town completely!" Billy cursed under his breath. Nobody said anything, and the woman waited nervously. For some reason she only looked at Billy, her eyes pleading silently.

"We can't just leave them to die," Billy said turning away from the crying girl to talk to his fellow travelers. Billy repeated himself and waited for one of them to answer. Simms frowned and Carrington scowled.

"It wouldn't be right to leave them now," Simms agreed thoughtfully. Billy sighed in relief, but Carrington laughed bitterly at the statement.

"If we stay here for another day Chevron WILL, make it to Paradise Falls before we can get to him," Carrington countered, his voice at a harsh whisper. He was talking to Simms alone now, ignoring Billy and the woman completely. "How do you like your odds of rescuing your boy from the army of slavers that will be guarding him if that happens?" Simms stared Carrington down, neither man blinking. Finally he spoke again.

"Billy, we're leaving." Simms said with utter finality. Billy gasped, and shot Carrington a glare. Carrington avoided his look as he turned to leave. It was the first sign of guilt Billy had ever seen in the sour man.

"Lucan!" Billy shouted, not moving away from the town. "Lucas Goddamnit listen to me!" Simms kept walking. Billy clenched his fists and shouted. "I aint leaving them to die, you hear me? I won't fucking do it!" Simms stopped long enough to answer calmly.

"Then don't, I'll tell Maggie you're waiting here for her..." Then he was walking again. Billy's mouth hung open, he was shocked into silence by his old friend's callus remark. The Sheriff and Carrington were gone without another word.

"Thank you," The woman whispered at his side after Billy had been standing alone for an hour, taking his numb hand into her own and leaning on him comfortingly.

"Oh, don't mention it!" He laughed hystericly. It wasn't funny, but he had to laugh anyway. She smiled hesitantly too, not noticing the tear sliding down his one remaining eye.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch.6 Battle for Big Town

They had been walking wordlessly for a few hours, making their way down the broken remnants of the old road. Chris stayed behind Simms, his eyes planted firmly on the ground. He almost hoped for Raiders or Talon mercs to attack them. Anything to take his mind off of what he'd in all likelihood done. It bothered him that he was troubled at all, a vicious cycle running in his mind. He hadn't been like this before, he'd been strong and self reliant. Now he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from guilt at consigning a good man to die along with a whole town.

The logical part of him tried to reassure him. Chris hadn't been lying when he'd told Simms what would happen if they had stayed. Billy and Simms would loose their children for good, and Chris would never catch Chevron. But that was what mattered most wasn't it? It was all about getting back at Chevron in the end he told himself, sickened by the truth of it. Was he even trying to help Abigale anymore or was he just out for revenge? And more importantly how would she react if she saw him now, if she knew all the things he'd done to try and bring her back. Why even go through so much to save her if she couldn't stand the site of him when she woke?

Billy Creel stood in his mind, repeating his rejection of the abandonment of the townspeople. The people he had saved once before stood behind Billy and watched him with desperation in their eyes. And he denied them again and again as he had done in reality. He was letting them die, damning them as surely as if he was pulling the trigger himself.

His internal struggle was interrupted when he ran face first into Simms back. The man had stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at him. Chris cursed silently and shot Simms a questioning stair.

"Something wrong?" Simms asked hollowly. "You've been muttering to yourself for an hour..." They both knew what was wrong, Chris was sure of it. He sighed and looked back in the direction they had come, though Big Town was far out of sight by that time.

"We have to go back," Chris muttered bitterly. He waited for the rant he knew he deserved. Something along the lines of having his ass kick for convincing the man to leave and then asking him to come back, or flat out refusing to turn around. Instead all he got was.

"I know," Simms told him, blowing out a similar sigh and smiling sadly. "Harden forgive me... I will find you,"

-( )-

Billy walked from house to house, followed by the woman named Red. The townspeople had returned to their houses during the calm before the storm but if he was going to fight off the Super Mutants he'd need all the help he could get. Red waited behind him each time he knocked on a door, giving him a pat on the back each time he was denied help by the very people he was trying to save.

"I'm sorry," The next woman said through her half opened door. "There's nobody here who can help... they already took my husband and son." He was expecting just such an answer. The Super Mutants hadn't left many men behind, and those that had managed to hide weren't exactly the fighting sort.

"Ok then," He mumbled, letting the woman close the door in his face. Red looked confused and sad but Billy supposed he did too. They walked to the next house slowly.

"I'm sorry about all this," She apologized miserably.

"Nothing to be sorry about on your part," Billy chuckled ironically. The sun was lowering in the sky, turning the sky orange as they reached the last few houses in the town without any promises of assistance. "Just bad luck I suppose," Red stopped beside him then, hugging the taller man around the waist.

"I'm so sorry you got pulled into this!" She was crying into his dust leather vest. Billy put his hand on her shoulder hesitantly, shocked at the sudden outburst. But he'd been taking care of Maggie for years, and had learned many lessons in calming people down when they got hysterical.

"Hey, hey," He whispered gently, lifting her trembling chin up so their eyes could meet. "I chose to stay, didn't get pulled into anything." She nodded her head, still holding him close. "Now lets go see if we can't find somebody worth carrying a gun, hu?" Finally she dropped her arms and took a step back.

"Ok, lets do it." Her voice had taken on resolve and she dried her eyes quickly. Satisfied with the situation Billy continued to the open doorway of the next house.

"Hello?" He called, not wanting to just step in, despite the lack of a door. One of the Super Mutants must had destroyed it during the attack. A warm light poured out of the open doorway, the yellow of the light bulbs contrasting strangely with the orange light of evening outside. Billy was just about to repeat himself when a voice called from the back of the house.

"Just a minutes, hold on!" The man the limped into the doorway was pale, whether from blood lose or nature Billy couldn't tell. But he was shirtless and had bandages wrapped around most of his stomach. His hair was a dirty tangle of blond pulled back behind his rather large ears. Though the man was leaning on the door frame he didn't look like he was about to fall over, at least not yet. His eyes were piercingly blue and radiated strength.

"I uh," Billy stammered under the lanky man's glare.

"You are one of them yes, who save the town?" His accent was thick but understandable and firm. Billy nodded his head dumbly, unsure of how to go about asking the man for anything. "You has come wanting help fighting off Super Mutants again, yes?" Another nod from Billy. "I am still able to lift gun, if propped where I can shoots steady." Billy blinked in surprise.

"You're sure you can fight like, well uh..."

"What this?" The gruff man wheezed, poking the blood dampened bandages with a grin printed on his sharp features. "Is nothing compared to stuff I get back in the fatherland!" Billy had heard of the place before, Germany, they'd called it. Before He could question further the man limped back inside, shouting back at him. "You and Red get back here, too many mines for me to carry myself!" Billy waited a moment, looking back at a smiling Red.

"Who is this guy?" He asked in wonder.

"That's old Victor Bauer, he's the only reason we lasted long enough for you to get here." She told him happily. He was probably the one shooting at the Super Mutants when they'd arrived, Billy thought as they followed Victor into the ruined house. The floor was littered with spent bullet casings and blood, which Billy and Red walked slowly over to avoid tripping. They found the wounded German in the back of the house, digging frantically through a closet in a barren room.

"I has mines all over place, old ones from military days!" He shouted happily, tossing what Billy hoped to god wasn't a mine out of the way and continuing to root through the closet. Red had fallen silent once more, nervously shrugging her shoulders at Billy's questioning look. "Ah here is what we are looking for!" He shouted triumphantly. He was holding what looked like a ball of wire and metal plates the size of two fists clenched together. Billy and Red stared blankly at the object.

"Is it a mine?" Billy asked hesitantly. Victor frowned, then switched to a smile in an instant. The effect was unnerving to say the least.

"Yes is one of a kind mine!" He joined them in the middle of the room, cradling the mine like a baby. "I make it from, er how you say... mini nuke!" Billy backed up a step at the proclamation.

"A mini nuke," He gasped with a wide eyed smile. "Hot damn, that'll blow those things to kingdom come!" Victor smiled widely, nodding his whole sale agreement.

"Yes my friend, I know is real reason for them to be attacking town," He leaned toward Billy conspiratorially. "They are wanting to copy plans of my special mine," Billy shared a smile with him, afraid of what might happen if he didn't. The man was clearly crazy as hell, but he was tough and had enough explosives to level a city.

"So let's get to work," Billy laughed, feeling a hell of a lot better about his odds now.

-( )-

He had no name, none of them did after they were reborn. But he was big and that made him the boss. The smaller Super Mutants crowded around him in the dark, waiting for him to tell them what to do. A short distance from where they hid the lights of the human town flickered in the night. The sight would have made him grin, if his mouth wasn't stuck in a permanent grin anyway. He always savored he moments before a good fight.

"When are we attacking?" One of the twelve Super Mutants under his command shouted in what passed for a whisper among the naturally loud race. He only growled and slapped the questioner hard enough to kill a mortal, sending it flying to the ground outside the circle.

"When I say we do," The other Mutants laughed as the punished one sat back up and regained his bearings. He was a smarter Mutant than most, but not so smart that he would be cast out like the other freaks. It had helped him stay alive in the hostile world they called home. "I don't want them hiding again, so we wait until they are all asleep. And this time we take them all alive!" They snickered at the last bit, remembering the high mortality rate of the last raid. It was a fun time for all, except for the humans. The laughter cut off as her raised his heavily armored hand. The light on the bridge had gone out, which only one thing. "It's time boys, move out!" They ran into the night with gusto, ready for the fun to come.

-( )-

"They're out there alright," Billy whispered calmly, his eye traveling through the scope of his trusty old magnum. He lay prostrate on the roof of the house closest to the entrance bridge, beyond which shapes were moving in the darkness. He had been right in having Red shut off the entrance lights, knowing the Super Mutants were waiting for a vulnerable target.

Below him Victor giggled maniacally, trying and failing to keep himself from showing his joy at the "special mine"s approaching test run. Chris shushed him hastily and went back to scanning the darkness outside the town wall. Finally a shape came forth, stepping into the scant light cast by the house lights behind the wall. It was followed by half a dozen more before the first one came halfway down the length of the small bridge, which coincidentally was where Victor had set the mine.

"Billy my friend," Victor shouted up, breaking the silence as the Mutants charged forth.

"Ya?"

"You may wish to close you eyes," Before he had a chance to comply a flash of all consuming white engulfed his view, blasting him backwards and nearly flinging him from the roof. He skidded to a halt on his back, a few inches from the edge of the building. The rumble was deafening, shaking the very foundation of the house on which he had perched. There were no sounds of wounded after the blast, only the crackle of burning debris and the howl of the wind stirred up by the small scale nuclear detonation.

Billy shook his head woozily, a piercing ring echoing in his head. He scrabbled down the side of the building slowed by the fact that he was still nearly blind from the dazzling light show. Victor emerged from the inside of the house and ran to Billy, jumping and hooting the whole way.

"Billy my friend, beautiful is it not!" He cried happily. Billy managed a smile before he went back to rubbing his eyes painfully. Nothing could have survived that blast, but he needed to be sure they were finished. It would be nice if it was that easy.

"Is it over?" Red asked once she had exited the house she had hidden in.

"I think so," Billy chuckled as he walked to the edge of the bridge. He had to shield his face from the heat of the still burning landscape outside the wall, which was also on fire in more than once place. Victor and Red joined him in watching the scenery blacken and crackle.

"A successful trial for special mine yes?" Billy didn't answer, his attention drawn to the other side of the fire.

"No way!" Billy gasped.

"You think nots?" Victor muttered before he too became aware of the towering figure crossing the flames. Red stumbled backwards at the sight of the Super Mutant marching through the flames as though they didn't even hurt. It was covered from head to toe in sheets of metal, a pilots bomber hat sitting atop its yellow head.

"Run!" Billy shouted, throwing an arm out in front of Red and Victor. "Go now!" He shouted, listening to the two pairs of feet flee into the town. It was a Super Mutant Master, one of the toughest son of a bitches out there. And Billy knew his chances were nill. The Mutant reached the town unscathed, its armor blackened from the crossing. "No way you survived the blast..." Billy stammered, his gun hand trembling. The Mutant paused and looked almost thoughtful as it drew the massive Super Sledge from its back.

"Waited in the back," It corrected him in its harsh voice. The diplomatic moment was dreamlike in its oddity.

"Oh," Billy murmured as the thing charged.

-( )-

His vision was still too damaged for him to do anything flashy but Billy still managed to fire off a couple of shots as he dove out of the way of the jack hammering Super Sledge. None of the shots managed to pierce the strong armor the thing wore but it had missed too, its powerful weapon sweeping across the space he'd occupied a moment before. He came up in a crouch aiming three shots at the Master's head. Two went wide of the target and vanished into the night sky. The third bounces off its helmet causing it to stagger but not doing and harm.

He had one bullet left in the gun, and his chances of reloading in combat were bad. The Master circled him slowly in the open road, learning from the first attack. It would bide its time Billy knew from the way it held its weapon steady but ready. The dance continued for a while, neither willing to give the other the advantage of a counter attack. But his plan was already working out, for his vision was slowly coming back to him.

"Hey my friend!" the strangely accented voice of Victor called from behind the Super Mutant Master. The thing turned around ,surprise making it forget its situation for a moment. The man's arm stuck out of the nearby building, tossing something into the air. The Mutant caught the flying object it its spare hand by reflex, staring down at it in confusion. Apparently it was not familiar enough with the shape of a frag grenade to distinguish it in the dark.

"WHAT'S," It was interrupted by the detonation of the explosive in its hand. Billy shielded his eyes in time this time around, shouting laughter over the crack of the blast. He was still chuckling when the smoke began to clear, until he saw the now one armed Mutant standing in the same spot and looking very pissed off. "THAT HURT!" It bellowed, charging Billy again.

Billy tried to fire his gun, but the moment of surprise had given the Mutant the edge. He only managed to put his final shot in the ground as the thing barreled into him with the outstretched end of the Super Sledge. The air left his lungs in a whoosh as he was thrown to the ground, rolling like a rag doll down the road. His gun flew out of his hand as he skidded to a halt, not that it would have done him any good in its empty state.

If his ribs weren't broken the mind numbing pain in his chest was lying to him. he rolled to his side, the tightness in his chest forcing a spasm from the depths of his lungs. All thoughts of the Master bearing down on him were forgotten as he groaned out his pain. The thing pushed him onto his back with the end of its weapon, the movement prompting another pained groan from Billy. Victor had vanished without a trace after his improvised surprise attack it seamed. The Mutant stared down at him with a face that was unreadable and inhuman.

"You," It growled at him, lifting a booted foot above his bleeding and bruised face. "Have put up a good fight..." Billy laughed with an agonized wheeze, ignoring the pain. It was just too funny to be complimented by a monster right before it squished him. The joke ended when a hail of bullets bounced off the things armor, more inaccurate than Billy's original attack. Both victim and monster looked to the entrance of the town, where two figures now stood. The one holding the smoking gun lowered it and pointed a wicked looking knife threateningly.

"My turn," Carrington called to the Mutant.

-( )-

The Mutant didn't have a name, but he was big and that had gotten him through life pretty painlessly. Of course he had never lost an arm before, but the pain was a distant an vague thing in the red haze of battle. The little man had been very tricky, and a good fight. But if looked like he wasn't going to be the first one to die that night. They had killed all of his war band, which would have been a cause for revenge in a human. But such attachments didn't exist amongst the Mutants. He was only in it for the fun of the challenge.

The man who had spoken up from behind him was tiny just like all humans, almost laughably so. But he showed no fear before him, and the Mutant respected that. He retracted his foot from over the fallen human's head, choosing not to end his life before the battle. The way he saw it, if the new humans were able to best him they deserved a chance to save the broken one. And if they couldn't... well then he would feast well that night.

Holding the Super Sledge was slightly more difficult one handed but he wasn't bothered too much. The hand would grow back a few days after he had eaten the last morsel on this human's bones. He walked toward the knife wielding human slowly, once again taking in the moment before battle. The Human with the rifle and dark skin crept around him slowly and without attacking. Once it was behind him it rushed to the fallen human and picked it up, rushing away from the battle. Saving others was a strange idea, but one it distantly remembered from its old life. Let them try, and if he won it wouldn't matter anyway.

"Come on!" The man yelled, darting forward with surprising speed and grace. The Mutant obliged, swinging the weapon in an upward curving side slash. In the split second the weapon obscured his eyes the human vanished, re-appearing only a foot away from it. Still staggering from the powerful swing the Mutant was too late to stop the counter. Faster than his eyes could follow the man jabbed the knife straight through his armor and into his gut, making a dozen little slits in it that leaked his blood.

"GOOD ONE!" It Cackled, taking an unexpected rout and kicking the human away with a huge metal clad foot. The man went airborne, managing to stay on his feet when he slid to a halt a few yards away. This man was indeed stronger than the last. There was a thin trail of blood running down the side of his mouth but other than that he seamed unhurt. Not many humans could even survive a kick from a Mutant as strong as him.

They charged in unison this time, The Mutant bringing the weapon low for another feint and kick. But at the last split second the human jumped, the motion turning into a flip as he went over the passing Mutant's shoulder. The Mutant tried to stop, and managed after a few stumbling steps. It turned and looked back at it's enemy with confusion printed on its face. Had the human done something to it? It must have, because his remaining hand dropped the hammer without him even feeling it. He finally became aware of the faint impression of pain in its neck.

Probing fingers reached up to its neck, forgetting about the human. They found an open wound, which he hadn't been aware he had received. And with a deep probe a human wouldn't have been able to stomach its finger found...

"This knife is special," The human told him calmly as his legs gave out. He was staring at the ground, and the puddle of his own blood accumulating there. His head wouldn't move as he commanded. "So sharp it can easily sever the trachea, jugular artery and most of the spinal cord in one slice..." He went one casually, wiping the knife off on the edge of his long coat. "As was the case with you,"

"Good one," The Mutant repeated in a wheeze, then its head met the ground and everything went black.

-( )-

Billy looked up from the bed he had been dropped on while he was still in a daze. Red was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with a worried frown. He couldn't manage any words in his condition, but a little smile twitched to his lips with some effort. She smiled back, taking his numb hand in hers carefully.

"We have a lot of stimpacks between the three of us, he'll be ok." A gruff voice told her from the other side of the room. Billy forced his neck to move slowly, turning toward the voice.

"L, Lucas?" He couched, his chest and neck on fire. The old sheriff stepped closer, joined by Carrington who looked grim as ever.

"Ya we're here Billy," He told him comfortingly. The words had hurt too much to try again, so Billy just starred at Carrington questioningly, knowing they would understand the question. Carrington nodded his head and went as close to smiling as Billy had ever seen.

"We changed out minds," He answered the unspoken question.

-( )- Writer's note: Thanks for reading this far, just a few things to mention. I had planned on letting Victor be a one shot character, but what do you (the dear readers) think? I think he has potential to remain with the group. Anyway let me know what you think before I post the next chapter and I'll decide then! Also A note about Big Town. According to the game the Lone Wanderer would have saved the town from the Super Mutant threat a few years ago, this is a separate and later incident involving a different group of Mutants. Thanks again for reading! Inquisitor Herron-( )-


End file.
